


The absence of justice

by asamandra



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Branding, Corporal Punishment, F/M, Genital Piercing, M/M, Multi, Nipple Piercings, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Rape, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Whipping, no happy ending for Clint, slave!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has to pay for his actions...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt on avengerkink: [Any/Clint, BDSM/Slavery/Dark AU, non-con, punishment - Clint has to pay for his actions](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17385.html?thread=39794409#t39794409)
> 
> Clint attacked the Helicarrier and got a lot of good agents killed. He has to pay for his crimes. So he's restrained and left out in the Shield lobby for day for every agent who died. Any Shield agent may do anything they want to him, as long as it isn't permanent/crippling. Rape, flogging, whipping, stress positions, cbt, etc... At the end, he's auctioned off to the highest bidder.
> 
> Bonus:  
> \- No happy ending.  
> \- Punishment phase lasts at least two weeks, and he's only given the most basic care to keep him alive and awake.  
> \- The Avengers are counted as Shield agents and take part in Clint's punishment.  
> \- Tony buy Clint so the Avengers can keep using and abusing him.  
> \- Coulson returns and Tony offers to give him Clint. Coulson says they can share.
> 
> And I know I said no happy ending, but maybe in my mind when Phil comes back, he will just keep Clint for himself. And Clint will be so grateful that he won't mind when Phil hurts him because Phil at least patches him up. After all, Phil doesn't want to break his toy. >.>

“Twenty-seven good agents are dead. Twenty-seven. Eleven of them were married, fourteen had children.” Fury stood in front of his senior staff in the large lobby of the HQ, beside him, on his knees, Agent Clint Barton, tied, gagged and held by two other agents, Lester and Meine. 

“You, Agent Barton, led the attack that got these men and women killed. And the only reason you are not sentenced to death is the fact that Loki messed with your brain.” 

Clint looked at Fury disbelievingly. He never wanted to attack the helicarrier, he never wanted to harm anyone of his friends and colleagues. Loki forced him to do it.

“You're here to make amends for your actions.” Fury turned to him. “Specialist Barton, you are removed from your duties. You are removed from SHIELD and you'll lose your rank. You will stay here in the lobby, chained. One day for every dead agent. And all your colleagues are allowed to carry out your punishment. Every agent, and in that case it includes the Avengers as well, are allowed to do whatever they want as long as it's not permanent, crippling or deadly. When these twenty-seven days are over you will be sold to the highest bidder and the money will go to the dead agent's families.” 

Clint swallowed and shook his head. It wasn't his fault. He fought. All the time he was under Loki's spell he fought but he couldn't break the mind control. If he weren't gagged he would've pleaded right now. SHIELD was his life, his family. Fury couldn't do this. 

But he did. The two agents who held him grabbed his arms and pulled him up and Fury himself stepped up to him and ripped off the SHIELD-logo from his uniform. He nodded at Lester and the man held him while Meine started to cut off his clothes. Clint started to struggle. They couldn't do this. It wasn't right. It wasn't his fault. It took only a few minutes and he was naked in front of all the people he knew, he worked with, he called friends. He looked at Natasha for help but her gaze was as hard and relentless as Fury's. The only one who seemed a little bit uncomfortable was Rogers but he stood between Natasha and Stark, his arms folded over his chest and watched. 

Lester and Meine dragged Clint through the crowds to the other side of the lobby. They had installed a pole with shackles and they opened the cuffs behind his back. 

Clint was fast and he was good but they had held him in a cell the last three weeks and he was a bit out of shape. He fought nevertheless, could place a few blows but then he was hit by something that felt like a sledgehammer and he crumpled to the floor. When he opened his eyes again he could see Thor looming over him, staring down at him with the same merciless gaze and he knew that his chances went to zero. The Asgardian held him while Lester and Meine fastened the shackles around his wrists and then all three stepped back. Clint stood there, naked and his hands tied tightly over his head, his body for everyone on display.

He looked again at Natasha, the woman he called his best friend. Till today. She held his eyes with hers and pressed her lips tight together. He could see that she also blamed him for the dead agents, for Coulson. 

Fury came over to him and the Avengers followed him. Lester had uncovered the shelf behind the pole and Clint could see all sorts of torture devices and he shook his head in shock. This had to be a bad dream. This couldn't be real. Not happening to him. It was a nightmare. Another one. He always had nightmares since Loki took him but this was by far the worst. He tried to force himself to wake up but it wasn't a dream. He was awake and Fury went to the shelf and looked at it's contents and then he chose a braided bullwhip and Clint's eyes went wide. 

With a cruel smile on his lips Fury turned to Clint who struggled against the shackles. He stepped in his personal space and placed a hand on his side only an inch under his right arm and let it trail down his body to his hip. Clint swallowed hard but held Fury's gaze with his eyes. The older man could see his fear, he couldn't hide it. It wasn't his first encounter with a bullwhip and he knew it would be painful. He had a set of scars on his back to tell the story. Fury's hand lingered on his hip longer than necessary before he turned Clint around and kicked his legs apart.

“Don't move,” the director whispered into his ear and he shuddered. Fury stepped back a bit.

“Twenty-seven dead agents, twenty-seven lashes with the bullwhip.”

Clint closed his eyes and bit down on his gag. He wouldn't scream. He wouldn't give them this satisfaction. He was wrong. 

When the strap hit his back for the first time he grabbed the chains on his shackles. He stayed still for five lashes, he kept quiet for twelve. He screamed into his gag till he lost conscience after the twenty-first. Meine poured ice cold water over him and he scrambled awake, gasping. And then Fury continued.

Afterwards he hung in the chains, heavily panting, bleeding, shivering from the cold water and couldn't hold back the tears. And he knew this was just the beginning. When he joined SHIELD seven years ago he was sure his life had turned from bad to good. Now he wished Coulson had let him die in the dirty back lane where he found him bleeding from a deep knife wound.

“Twenty-seven days. From sunrise to sunset.” Fury put the whip back into the shelf. “It's your task and your right to punish this traitor, ladies and gentlemen.” He said to the assembled agents before he finally left.


	2. Chapter 2

This evening, when they brought him back to the cell he was locked in the last three weeks, he was barely conscious. Everything hurt. Agent Torres opened the cuffs and removed the gag before she left him lying on the floor. 

Clint didn't try to move. He knew he couldn't manage it. He closed his eyes and thought about Fury's words. Twenty-seven days of punishment. That means, one day done, twenty-six to go. Oh god, they should've shot him. Why couldn't they just shoot him?

He didn't know how long he was back when someone opened the door. He still didn't move, just lay there on the floor where Torres and Dernier had dropped him but he looked at the person who entered his cell. It was Dr. Baxter. He knelt down beside him and turned him on his back and Clint't couldn't repress a tiny whimper. The doctor looked over his front, his abraded wrists, the missing tooth, the black eyes, the bloody nipples, the deep purple bruise on his side, the welts on his thighs and his abdomen before he turned him around. To lie on his stomach wasn't better. It hurt as bad as his back. The whip marks Fury had left had stopped bleeding hours ago but the welts from the riding crop Sitwell had used on his ass were still angry. Dr. Baxter spread his ass cheeks and shoved his fingers into his channel to check for damage but he was just sore. Nothing torn. 

The first one to shove his dick up his ass was Stark. He didn't wait too long.

“You ever been with a man, Barton?” he asked when he was behind him, pressed him with his body against the pole he was tied to, one hand on his hip the other squeezing his balls in an iron grip. Clint tried to withhold an answer but when Stark had increased the pressure on his balls he finally gave in and shook his head.

“Nothing? No kissing?” Head-shaking. “No fumbling?” Head-shaking. “No blowjobs?” Head-shaking. “No handjobs?” Head-shaking. “No dick up your ass?” Head-shaking. “Good boy,” he mocked and patted his ass. Clint swallowed hard. He knew what would follow. “I'm taking your virginity, Barton.” Stark moved his hand away from his balls and grabbed his dick.

_No, please, don't touch me, don't do that_ , he thought and closed his eyes. But he knew it would happen nevertheless. 

This wasn't the first time he got tortured. He's been captured a few times for information and some of the guys have been really rough. But nothing he ever experienced in his life so far could ever prepare him for this. Stark had lubed himself up but he didn't bother with preparing Clint. He just spread his cheeks and shoved his dick in. One hard and forceful thrust and his still clothed body was tightly pressed against Clint's, his cock to the root in his ass. He had tried to refrain to scream but that was impossible. It hurt so badly. Clint tried to move away from the pain but the pole in front of him and the chains prevented it and so he had to stay while Stark started to move out of him just to thrust back a few seconds later. 

Clint had closed his eyes but the pain forced him to open them and he saw a few agents lurking around, watching his violation and visibly enjoying the agony he was in. 

“Oh, you're so tight, you feel so good,” Stark purred. “You're made for this.” 

He fucked him so hard and with so much hatred, it felt as if he would try to rip out his intestines.

“When you're on the block to be auctioned off, I'll buy you.” He reached around him and took his dick in his hand and started to stroke him Clint tried to struggle. It was bad enough that he was raped in front of all the people he knew but to be forced to orgasm, as if he liked it, was even worse. But Clint had no leeway at all and Stark still pressed him against the pole. He felt his cock harden and the shame was unbearable when he heard his former friends encourage Stark to get _the traitorous cockslut_ off. 

And when he yelled into his gag, partly from pain, partly from pleasure, he wished he would die. 

“Soon, Barton. Soon you're mine. And then me and the team take good care of you,” Stark whispered into his ear and Clint shivered uncontrollable. When he withdrew and closed his pants Clint sagged down in his chains, his legs unable to hold his weight. 

Stark wasn't the only one who fucked him, three more agents followed his lead this day. 

Dr. Baxter turned to Agent Torres, “Feed him and make sure that he gets enough water or he won't last for the rest of his punishment. And we want him punished properly, don't we?” He smirked down at Clint. 

He closed his eyes. One day done, twenty-six to go.


	3. Chapter 3

When a boot connected with his ribs he scrambled awake. He hadn't realized that he was fallen asleep and it was the first time he didn't hear the person coming up to him. But on the other hand, he was so out of it since his punishment started. Every morning two agents came to get him _breakfast_ , a bowl of gruel, sometimes mixed with their piss or jizz... or both. He ate it nevertheless. At first he tried to go on hunger strike but then two agents had held him while the third forced it into his mouth and pressed his hand over it till he had swallowed it. He had puked afterwards. They led him to the showers behind the gym but he wasn't allowed to shower, they just hosed him down with freezing cold water. 

His day in the lobby started with the usual twenty-seven lashes with the bullwhip from Director Fury and after a few days the man had learned to beat him so that it hurt like a motherfucker but he didn't lose consciousness anymore.

Stark came every day to tell him what he's going to do to him when he has bought him while he raped him. 

“I'm going to brand my initials into your skin that everyone can see that I own you.” 

“We will use you wherever we want and if we decide to do it in the middle of a board meeting then you will take it and maybe I let all the board members use you as well.” 

“Maybe I let Bruce castrate you.” 

“You will get a prince's wand and I'm the only one who can open it. Whenever you have to pee you have to beg me to let you.” 

Clint hoped that someone of the others would lose control and kill him but that didn't happen. 

It was his fourth day when Natasha came to him. 

“Nat, please,” he said when he saw her gaze. 

“You're a traitor,” she spat and backhanded him. He spit blood onto the floor. 

“No, I've never betrayed you or SHIELD or anyone.” Natasha went to the shelf behind him and rummaged through the contents and finally found what she was looking for. 

“You've led an attack against the helicarrier. You've freed a dangerous enemy. You've killed friends and colleagues. Because of you Loki could lead an attack against earth and many people lost their lives, friends, family, their homes, their jobs, everything. You should see the damage in New York and all of this is your fault, traitor,” she hissed and wrapped a collar around his neck and fastened it to the pole before she opened the shackles that held his hands. Clint slumped down. He got beaten many times today, he got raped a few times. 

“I never wanted this to happen. He forced me. I tried to fight but his magic was strong. I couldn't do anything. Please, Nat, _you_ have to believe me.”

“Why? Why do you expect me to believe you? You're a traitor! And now stand up or I make you.”

He placed his hands on the floor and pressed himself up into an upright carriage. Natasha had fetched a nasty looking cane.

“Come on, squat down.” He held her eyes for a second but when the cane connected with his legs he finally obeyed. “Loop your hands around your knees and grab your ears.” 

“What?” Clint gasped and stared at her but she hit him again with the cane. He did as she instructed and it fucking hurt to stand in this position. “And now lift your ass up,” she snarled and when he didn't obey immediately she hit his ass and she knew how to use the cane. Whenever he lowered his butt she caned him. He managed twelve minutes before his body gave out. 

She waited till he was conscious again and then, with a cruel smile, she placed small beads on the floor. 

“Kneel down,” she said, her voice ice and acid. “On the beads.” 

The tiny beads dug into his knees and he only managed to not cry out due to pure willpower. 

“Lift your feet,” Natasha ordered and when he didn't obey fast enough she caned his feet. He lifted them and then his whole weight lasted on his knees and the beads. He managed to stay nearly a minute before he started to scream. When he lost consciousness again she shook her head and spit at him. 

After he regained consciousness again he was back on the pole, tied and the collar was gone. He felt tears running over his face. There were three persons he had trusted in his live. Barney and he had stabbed him and left him to die in that alley where Coulson found him, Phil and he was dead now because Loki killed him and Natasha, who always had his back, whose back he always had, they could count on each other since he saved her and brought her to SHIELD. Two persons betrayed him, one person was dead and this hurt more than everything all of them could do to him. This hurt like they ripped out his still beating heart and trampled on it. 

Nothing Natasha had done hurt so much like her calling him traitor. She should know that it wasn't his fault, thanks to Red Room she had been in his position. And she had freed him out of Loki's mindcontrol, she had seen that he didn't have control over his actions, that he was a slave to Loki's will. 

When he felt hands on his hips and boots kicking his feet apart he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He didn't want to give the guy - he didn't bother to look who it was - the satisfaction of screaming. Not again, never again. And when a thick cock entered him violently he just bit his lips bloody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Murga punishment](http://punishments.blogspot.de/2010/08/murga-punishments.html%20)


	4. Chapter 4

_It's impressive how creative SHIELD agents could get when it came to hurting him_ , Clint thought in a grim sense of humor. 

Day eight of his punishment had gotten Agent Hill to make her move. She came right after Director Fury with an evil grin on her face. Clint knew she never was his biggest fan and now she could act on it.

She brought a metal rod with a broad base and on the top was a thick, nasty looking dildo. He had to step on two blocks and she placed the rod so that the tip of the dildo was already in his ass. He got a strap around his middle that tied him to the pole and his hands were stretched over his head. Then she moved the blocks sidewards and he could only stand on his tiptoes. It was straining in his legs and he couldn't hold it for too long but whenever he gave in and sank down he impaled himself on the thick cock and that was as painful as the straining position. She had gagged him and jacked him till his dick was hard and then placed a cockring around the base. She had a cock vibrator placed under his glans with a remote and every now and then she activated it and it send waves of pleasure through his body. 

She sat there in the lobby, files on her lap and reading and occasionally watching him struggle in this set up. He was covered in sweat and his breath was rugged and heavy but she only pushed the button and the vibrator sent more waves through him and the only thing Clint could do was to try to restrain himself from giving in and screaming. It hurt so much. The dildo was so thick and it always hit his prostate when he sank down on it and when he managed to get back on his tiptoes the muscles in his legs screamed in pain. 

Maria wasn't the only one there watching him. Other agents waited and looked what he would do as well and soon there was a small crowd, wanting to see him fail, to give in, to scream. One time he lost balance and his feet slid down from the blocks and he impaled himself so deep, it felt as if the dildo would perforate him and he waited for the thing to come up his throat. But then he managed to get back on the blocks and Maria started the vibrator again. 

He could keep it up for more than half an hour till Maria apparently got bored because she moved the blocks farther away so that he was fully impaled, she removed the cockring and activated the vibrator. Waves of pleasure and pain hit him so hard that he lost consciousness after shooting his load through the lobby and agents laughed and applauded. 

Stark was there and he had seen it. When Clint opened his eyes – they had lowered him and he could _stand_ on the floor again – he was there and smirked. 

“Nice show, Barton. I knew you're a natural,” he said and fondled with his balls. Clint glared at him but Stark only chuckled, turned him around and opened his pants. 

“I'm going to stretch your hole so that I can fist you, that you can take Thor's arms. Have you seen his arms?” He whispered in Clint's ear while he shoved his dick up his ass. Yes, he had seen Thor's arms. What this guy called arms other men used as legs. Clint shuddered again. “Soon, Barton. Soon.”

 

 

This evening when the Agents St.Claire and Harper brought him to his cell Clint stumbled and fell. Harper grabbed him and pulled him up and together the two men dragged him to the cell. He didn't realize that a button on his shirt was missing. They threw him into the tiled room, opened his cuffs and he slumped down, unresponsive, like every day. And also like ever evening Dr. Baxter came in to take a look if they could torture him some more the next day. He left after a minute and after giving him a shot with god knows what. 

He waited till they brought him his food, well, the stuff he has to eat because to call this food would be an insult to real food. With enough fantasy one could call it a stew. Agent Harper waited beside him while he ate to make sure that he didn't throw it into the bowl. They wanted him to survive this twenty-seven days.

Clint waited till he was gone and the light went out before he raised himself. He reached around the bowl to search for his treasures, a safety pin, a pen, a piece of string and now the button. 

He went to the vent and used the button to unscrew the lid. It was complicated with the small button but it had to work. Silently he placed the lid onto the floor and climbed in the small opening. It was narrow and he barely had enough space to move but Clint was desperate enough to try it.

He may be hurting but he was still an assassin and he knew how to move silently. He crawled along the vents to an exit. It was quiet but it also was dark and he deliberated if he should risk it. But then he decided to give it a try. It was better than the tiny vents. He used the pen to fumble with the screws and held the lid with his piece of string so it wouldn't clatter down to the floor. He looked down but it was dark and he only could see a few silhouettes. As quiet as possible he climbed out of the vent and dropped down into a crouch but as soon as he was on the floor he was floodlit and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Do you really think it would be this easy, Clint?” A voice said. Director Fury. The light turned a bit and he could see that he was... in a cage. In a fucking cage. He escaped from his cell to climb into a cage and he threw himself against the bars with a frustrated howl. 

“You can't escape. So take your punishment like a man,” the older man mocked when he saw Clint slump down and run his hands through his hair. He heard a noise and looked upwards to the vent he had used and saw bars locking the entrance now. 

“Why? Why me? It wasn't my fault and you know it!” he finally yelled and the director nodded slightly.

“But someone needs to be punished for this whole mess.” 

“Why not Loki? It was his plan, his idea, his fault!”

“Well, Loki is an alien prince, a noble... and you? You... are not.” Fury shrugged and turned.

“Why don't you just shoot me?” Clint asked now, desperation clearly audible. 

“Not an option. Your punishment will continue tomorrow.”


	5. Chapter 5

They never brought him back to his cell. He lived now in this cage. It was small, just big enough for him to lie down. Two steps in each direction. Not that he would make any steps. When they brought him back to the cage he simply lay there and waited for the doctor to do his thing. 

He didn't know what day it was and how long he was here. He lost track of time. It was always pain and humiliation. At night they bandaged up his abraded wrists. He had struggled too much but he still couldn't give in, despite his knowledge that it was futile. He knew that he had the chance of a snowball in hell to ever get free again. He knew that he will be a slave for the rest of his life and that he will be Stark's property with the utmost probability. He knew that. But he still fought. He couldn't give in and let them do to him whatever they wanted without trying. He always had to fight since he was a little boy and this wouldn't change now. 

When they'll come in the morning he would fight. Again. And like always he would lose. He knew. He really knew. But maybe someday he would've luck. Who knew? 

He fought against the punishment because he also knew that it wasn't his fault, that he was just the scapegoat. Thor was there today. He told him that Loki got punished as well. He told him that he's in jail and that he's not allowed to see his mother. _What a severe punishment,_ Clint thought. 

Thor told him, that this _is_ a severe punishment in Asgard. Clint would swap places in an instant. 

“You don't understand this,” Thor had said, his body pressed tight against Clint's, his cock up to his balls in his ass. Clint had bitten his lips to restrain himself from crying out. Thor's cock was huge like everything on him. He had huge hands and huge arms and huge feet and he had a really huge cock. Clint knew now. He grabbed his chains to stay upright when the Asgardian grabbed his hips with his huge hands and fucked into his body. 

“Loki and our mother were really close and now he's not allowed to see her anymore,” Thor had said and Clint felt the blood trickle from his wrists over his arms, felt his legs shaking. His balls slapped against Clint's and it sounded grossly pornographic. 

“She taught him everything he knows, she's a very competent magician herself,” Thor couldn't shut his mouth, breathed his _lectures_ in Clint's ear and the only thing he could do was to close his eyes and to try to block out the pain in his rear. It took forever and a day for him to come close to completion. After all he was the fucking god of fertility. It was expected for this guy to have stamina. 

What he didn't expect was that Thor let his cock in Clint's ass after shooting his load into his body. He waited... and got hard again. _Oh god, please, no!_ He prayed silently but Thor started all over again. Only this time he could hear the squelching sound from Thor's cum in his ass while he shoved his dick in, again and again. Clint bit into his arm to not scream out. 

Thor's huge hand reached around him and started to fondle with his dick and Clint got hard, much to his embarrassment. It's once again this pain and pleasure thing he hated so much. Why did they all have to make him come? 

Clint tried to stay silent but it was impossible. He moaned like a bitch in heat when Thor filled him the second time and then he made him come. He could see his load drop onto the floor. And once again Thor just stayed inside of him and waited.

“You should be honored, Barton,” he suddenly said and Clint could feel the Asgardian getting hard again. “My brother is picky, even more than Anthony. It is a honor that he had chosen you,” he panted when he started his rhythm again and the squelching sound increased with two huge loads of cum in his ass. 

“That's a honor I would've been able to live without,” he finally spat and yelped when Thor pounded into him violently. 

“Don't speak to me in such tone of voice. Loki is of Asgard. He's a god!” Thor's voice got louder and now a few agents looked in their direction. He even increased the speed of his thrusts and it hurt so much right now, the sounds got worse and Clint couldn't repress a sound of pain anymore.

“I get punished because he chose me. I've never wanted any of this. Not to be chosen by him, not to lead an attack against the helicarrier and my friends and colleagues, not to be imprisoned and tortured, not to lose everything.” He spat with enough venom for Thor to stop for a moment. 

“Petty human. You _should_ feel honored. Not many of you are chosen by a god.” He emptied his balls for the third time in Clint's body and this time he withdrew. But Clint didn't have time to be relieved. Thor's cock got replaced by another one. A familiar one.

“How does it feel, Anthony?” The Asgardian asked and Stark only groaned in pleasure. 

“We totally have to do this more often. His hole fucked open and filled to the brim with cum... that's awesome. Thank you, big guy,” Stark moaned and sped up. Clint closed his eyes and tried to concentrate his hearing on something else than the ugly noises coming from his own body, the slapping of another body against his, the squelching from the cum in him and the groans, the chuckling from the Asgardian, that all he tried to block out. He failed. 

“You're welcome,” Thor said and stepped around the two of them, leaned himself against the pole, his face mere inches away from Clint's and then he grabbed his dick again. Clint tried to move away, but the chains were solid and Stark held him in position. Once again he felt an orgasm well up during the pain, felt the pleasure sweeping through him and shoving him over the edge with a cry and Stark came as well, added his sperm to the Asgardian's in his body. 

When he withdrew his cock Clint felt the cum dripping out of him, saw the puddle between his shaking legs and felt nauseous. 

The two left him and Clint placed his forehead against the pole. No one came to him for the next half an hour but then he heard a voice behind him he didn't recognize. And he didn't bother who was there. 

“This is disgusting! Can someone please get the muck out of him?” The man snarled and Agent Smith sighed but left to get the hose. Clint closed his eyes. This would hurt...


	6. Chapter 6

“Five days, Barton,” Rogers said when he was done with him. “Five days. Tony is excited like a schoolboy to finally get you.” 

“What if someone else buys me?” Clint croaked, his throat dry, his body hurting. He couldn't stand right now. Rogers hunkered down beside him and grinned. 

“He won't let anyone else get you.” Captain America, the symbol for everything that was good and righteous, patted the cheek of a man he just had tortured and smiled happily.

Clint was at least grateful that he didn't touch him sexually. Rogers only wanted to see him squirm in pain.

When he appeared he had unchained Clint's hands, fastened leather manacles around them and linked them with a solid looking bar. Together with the other two agents he brought Clint to the newly built rack. The bar got hooked in a ring with Clint's arms stretched over his body as far as possible.

“Grab the bar,” Rogers had ordered and when Clint had refused, he went to the shelf, took a cat o' nine tails and whipped him over his stomach.

“Grab the bar,” he repeated and Clint once again refused. Rogers whipped him again till he finally gave in and took the bar with both hands.

“Pullup,” Rogers said and Clint obeyed this time. The beating hurt and he already had his fair share today. First the obligatory beating with the bullwhip by Fury and then Agent May thought it would be fun to cane his feet. 

Clint pulled up and when he wanted to lower down Rogers whipped his stomach again. 

“Hold the position.” He managed nearly a minute before the muscles in his arms screamed in pain and he lowered down but as soon as he changed the position Rogers whipped him again.

“Up,” he snarled and Clint did it again. Rogers held him in this position till he couldn't hold back a scream and couldn't get back in position despite the whipping. He unhooked the bar and shoved Clint down to the floor, turned him around with his foot and chained his feet together.

“Come on, Barton, let's do a few push-ups,” he said and when Clint didn't move immediately he beat him again, this time on his back. 

“Come on, push up.” Clint placed the hands, still linked to the bar, on the floor and obeyed. Rogers let him do the first twenty and every now and then he whipped Clint on his back and his legs. The muscles in his arms still hurt and he panted heavily when he was done but Rogers just grinned.

“That was too easy for you, wasn't it?” Clint didn't know where from he had the weight plate, he hadn't had it when he came over to him. But when he lay on the floor Rogers placed a plate on his back.

“Up,” he said and Clint breathed hard and got in position. Apparently too slow because Rogers whipped his legs again.

“Up,” he repeated. Clint groaned when he pressed his body up from the floor and the added weight wasn't helpful. He managed thirteen push-ups more before he gave out.

“Still too easy?” Rogers mocked and added more weight on his back. Clint felt as if his spine would break but when he got whipped again and again he finally tried and managed three push-ups before he slumped down and couldn't move. 

“Pathetic,” Rogers sighed when he removed the weights and Clint could finally breath again. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable beating and it came as expected. Clint pressed his teeth together but Rogers continued till he screamed. 

“On your knees,” Rogers snarled, when Clint was able to breath again. He pushed himself up, all his muscles screamed when he moved them. 

“I said, on your knees and not make yourself at home,” the Captain spat when Clint sat down on his legs. He lifted his body up in a kneeling position when he whipped his chest. Rogers removed the bar but left the manacles around his wrists. He slipped out of his heavy boots and handed them to Clint. 

“One in each hand and hold them on shoulder height.” The boots weren't too heavy but Clint's abused muscles hurt and he couldn't hold them for more than a minute. But whenever he let his arms down he got whipped. Everything hurt and after a few minutes and more beating Clint was done in. He slumped down to the floor and nothing, not even the continued whipping could get him back up. 

“I knew you're a complete failure.” The words hurt even more than the beating. Clint's father had said them, his brother had said them, Trick Shot had said them. When Rogers was gone and the two agents, he didn't even bother to remember their names, dragged him up to chain him back to the pole he hid his face in his arm and let the single tear run over his face.


	7. Chapter 7

“Time has come.” Clint looked up when he heard the words. Fury stood outside of his cage, four agents by his side and his arms folded in front of his chest. 

A spike of panic surged through him and he rose. He wouldn't go without a fight. He wouldn't let them sell him like an object. Clint swallowed when one of the agents, Ward or something like that, opened the cage. He and another guy stepped in and Clint waited a second before he attacked them. The continuous torture had weakened him and he still hurt in places he didn't even realize he had but he was still Hawkeye, master assassin. Ward tried to grab his arm and Clint moved it out of his reach. Two seconds later he had the young agent in a chokehold and he defended himself at the same moment against the other agent with one leg. 

Fury rolled his eye and nodded at the other two agents. They entered as well and suddenly the tiny cage was cramped with people. Clint couldn't move anymore and when he felt a searing pain in his back he looked around and saw Natasha before he crumpled to the floor. She moved her hand with the widow's bite back and Ward freed himself out of his grip. 

“Tasha...” he managed but his former best friend only gave him a cold stare before she moved to Fury's side.

The agents in the cage grabbed his arms and wrenched them on his back. They cuffed his wrists together and dragged him out of the cage. Outside they fastened a thick leather belt around his waist and the cuffs got locked to it. Then they cuffed his feet together.

He could walk but only with tiny steps and really clumsily. It was embarrassing. They led him to the elevator and through the lobby out of the building to a few waiting black vans. One of them was open and the agents shoved him in. He had to sit on the bench on one side and his feet got chained to the floor. And he wasn't alone. There were two other men on the bench, naked and chained like him. One seat was still empty. On the passenger's seat sat Agent O'Toole, aiming with a tranq gun at them and waiting for the last man to arrive. It took only a few minutes and a bunch of agents shoved the last prisoner into the van. Dr. Erik Selvig. Naked and chained and terribly frightened. They closed the door behind him and one agent climbed behind the wheel and started the car. 

Clint took a look at the other prisoners. He could see that all of them had whip marks on their bodies but no other signs of torture. Apparently he was the only one who got publicly punished. 

“What happens now, Agent Barton?” The older man asked him quietly, his voice shaking and Clint could hear the fear. 

“They sell us to the highest bidder,” he whispered. 

“But why? It's not that it was our choice to follow Loki.” Selvig was on the verge of a panic attack and Clint could empathize with him. He was close to one himself. 

“I know. But that doesn't matter. Fury said it was our fault and this is our punishment.” 

Selvig swallowed hard and licked his lips. 

“But...” the older man started and this time O'Toole turned around. 

“Shut up! Both of you!” he snarled. Clint looked away but closed his mouth. He saw the other two men, hired mercs. He himself had hired them and now they were in the same position. It was his fault that this men were here. They weren't even mind-controlled. It was just a job for them. 

“And Loki is locked up and isn't allowed to see his mother. That's _his_ punishment,” Clint whispered when O'Toole had turned back. He could see Selvig pale and the other two glaring furiously at the SHIELD-agents in the front of the van.

“I've said, shut up or I'll gag you, traitor,” O'Toole looked back over his shoulder. Clint held his gaze and finally O'Toole looked away first. A small victory. 

When the car stopped and the doors opened he recognized the building immediately. It was New York's slave auction house. He's been here before. Once. With Phil. In the upper floors is the registration office for slaves. They were here to file an application to set Natasha free. 

The auction house's guards came to take the prisoners. They were huge, like Thor, and just as muscular. They brought them down to the slave kennels and Clint struggled. But again it was futile. They were professionals who did this for a living.

The floor below the auction hall was filled with cages. They were small but the slaves were in them for only a few hours till they were sold. Then their new masters took them with them. The guards forced Clint into one of the cages, opened the cuffs, lifted his arms and pulled them through the top bars where they got cuffed again. Then they fastened manacles around his knees and tied them to the side bars. He had to stay on his knees now with his arms over his head, his body spread and on display for everyone to see and to touch. When he was secured they brought Selvig and Clint could see the older man white like a ghost. He was really scared and he felt sorry for him. 

When all of them, fifteen men and three women, were secured the customers could take a look at the stock and they made an extensive use of it. He had more fingers in his ass and more hands on his cock and his sac in the one hour than he had in SHIELD's lobby each day. He closed his eyes and stayed silent, even as Stark came and taunted him again. He ignored him with gritted teeth. 

When the auction started the customers went up to the auction hall and the guards fetched the first woman. Ten minutes later they came back to get the second one. Clint swallowed hard. He wouldn't show it but he was as scared as Selvig and the older man already begged the guards to let him go. 

Fury had told him that he was the _main attraction_ and the last to be sold. 

After about two hours only him and Selvig were here and the older man was again on the verge of a panic attack. When the guards finally fetched him he looked back at Clint. He felt so sorry for him when he saw the scientist lose the control of his bladder and pee at himself. Clint mouthed 'good luck' before they led him to the exit. 

About ten minutes later the guards came to get him and Clint felt adrenaline flood his body. His hands trembled by now. The guards got him out of the cage, cuffed him and shoved him to the exit. He once again tried to struggle but the guys were really strong and his chances equate to a snowballs in hell. 

The auction hall was filled to the brim. Clint's mouth got dry when he saw Selvig still onstage, tied to a pole. The auctioneer called out numbers and rambled really fast and suddenly he hit with his hammer on a wooden block and Erik Selvig was sold. He could see the guy who bought him. Norman Osborn. Two guards removed the older man and Clint got out onto the block. Before he could react he was tied to the pole, his arms behind him and once again on display for everyone.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is our last object. Hawkeye, Loki's second in command, the man who orchestrated the attack on the Schäfer – Sicherheitsdienst building in Stuttgart, Germany, against an unknown SHIELD base where he freed the enemy Loki and against the city of New York together with the Chitauri. He got captured during the Battle of New York. He's thirty-three years old and as you can see well built, he's an archer and...” 

Clint stopped to listen. It was too embarrassing. Instead he looked around and he saw Stark, sitting in the second row and grinning maliciously at him. He stared at him, held his gaze with his 'evil assassin glare' and it was Stark who finally looked away. 

“Opening bid is 100,000.” 

Clint could see many hands and the auctioneer rambled again numbers and more numbers.

“500,000 for this gentleman, do I see more? 510,000 over there, thank you. And here we have 520,000...” 

He looked around and the faces of the bidders were really eager to get him. Many of them had lost people or property during the attacks and they wanted revenge.

“1,400,000, thank you sir, and there we get 1,500,000, is this the last bid? No, 1,600,000 the lady in green, and here we are, 1,700,000...” 

They spiraled themselves upwards and Stark still hadn't moved a hair.

“3,400,000 going once, going twice...” the auctioneer said when Stark finally lifted his hand.

“6,750,000 dollar.” The crowd got quiet, no one lifted a hand anymore and then the auctioneer grinned.

“6,750,000 going once, going twice, going three times, sold!” Clint leaned his head back at the pole in desperation. He knew it, he knew it the whole time but now it was official. He was the property of one Tony Stark. When he looked down Stark smirked and threw a mocking salute in his direction. It hit him like a sledgehammer. He was now a slave. A thing. And Stark could do to him whatever he wanted. Clint wished once again that they had shot him.


	8. Chapter 8

Clint was tied to an examination table, his wrists, ankles and knees bound to the sides of the table and his waist strapped down with medical restraints, leaving him open, accessible and vulnerable. They had gagged him with a ball gag and he had to wait for Banner and the other guy who arrived an hour ago.

Two guards from the auction house had brought him to Stark Tower a week ago. When they had left the elevator on one of the top floors Tony Stark and the other Avengers already were waiting for him. The guards had forced him to kneel on the floor while Stark skimmed through the papers and signed them. 

“He's all yours. Have fun,” one of the guys had said and they both stepped back into the elevator. 

“Mine, Barton,” Stark had whispered in Clint's ear when he hunkered down beside him and he had looked up at the older man, had caught his eyes and held his gaze. With an evil grin Stark had let Rogers grab him and drag him to the living room where they had thrown him over a table and the guys went down to business with him. Afterwards they had locked him up in a cage in their living room and Clint assumed that they had built it especially for him, to humiliate him even more.

Today they had brought this metal examination table into the room and Rogers and Thor had forced him onto it while Banner tied his limbs. He had a really bad feeling after all what Stark had threatened to do to him. 

On his first day here Stark came up to him, grinning, and had presented him his newest invention. A chip to be implanted in him. It would always show where he was, would limit his allowed range and it could be used to punish him. Yes, exactly what he needed. Another method to hurt him. As if they weren't creative enough in this department. Stark had let Banner implant the chip onto his spine and since then they could inflict immense pain when they pressed the button on a remote. Stark was delighted. He would earn so much money with selling these chips to other slave owners. 

Clint opened his eyes when he heard steps and he saw Banner and another man, small, bald, with many piercings and tattoos. 

The man surrounded the table and touched Clint sometimes, twisted his nipples, lifted his cock and his balls and examined his glans. Clint glared at him murderous but the man wasn't impressed. 

“Ah, you're here,” Stark said when he entered a few minutes later. 

“Mr. Stark.” The other man just nodded at Clint's... _owner_.

“I guess you already know what I want you to do?” Stark asked and the man nodded.

“Yes. A branding on his chest, double nipple piercings on both nipples, an inverse navel piercing, a Prince Albert, a reverse Prince Albert, a dydoe, a frenum ladder, a scrotal ladder and a guiche ladder.”

“Right. You can start when you're ready.” Stark gestured at Clint and the man's head snapped up.

“Which one?” The man asked.

Stark looked at him as questioningly. “All of them of course.” 

“You want me to do them all at once?” 

“Sure. So they can heal all at the same time.” 

“But a few of them are really painful.” The man licked his lips and looked at Banner now. 

“I don't care. I want all of them done as fast as possible and the best way is to do them at the same time. I want to use him as soon as possible without restriction. He can be thankful that Banner loves to play with his balls or I had him neutered as well.” Clint's breath sped up when he mentioned this. That bastard really had wanted to cut off his balls.

“Okay, you're the boss.” The man turned to the bag he had with him. “Let's start with the branding.” 

“I want my initials. TS. Right here on his chest.” Stark came over and pointed at the his left chest, right over the nipple. 

The guy opened his bag and put out his stuff and Clint's throat got dry. This was going to hurt. Stark took a seat at the couch where he could watch them. When the man heated the letters he closed his eyes and tried to retreated to the place in his mind where he was safe. It was one of his earliest memories of him, his brother and their mother. She held them and sang to them 'All the pretty little horses', long before his father had started to hurt him and his brother.

_Hush-a-by, Don't you cry,_ It burned and something smelled really ugly. He groaned.

_Go to sleep, little baby._ His nipples hurt. Something sharp went through them. Again. And again. He clenched his fists.

_And when you wake, You shall have,_ Hands on his stomach, pain on his navel. Clint gritted his teeth. 

_All the pretty little horses._ Someone held his cock and sac and pain between his legs. He threw his head back and bit the insides of his cheek. 

_Paint and bay, Sorrel and gray,_ Needles on his scrotum. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. He tasted blood. 

_All the pretty little horses._ More needles. This time on his cock. Clint bit his lip.

_So hush-a-by, Don't you cry,_ Fingers on his glans. Caustic pain. He couldn't hold back a groan but he didn't scream. Not yet. 

_Go to sleep, little baby._ More needles. More pain. Agonizing pain. He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, dear readers, you have the choice. Do you want the 'no happy ending'-option then move on to chapter 9. Do you want the alternate ending with Clint getting payback on his tormentors then move on to: [Alternate ending](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17613.html?thread=41302989#t41302989) (WIP and NOT my story!!)


	9. Chapter 9

Clint was locked up in his cage. He sat in one corner, his head leaned on the bars, his legs drawn to his body and his arms wrapped around them. He dozed. 

Currently his masters weren't here and they had locked him up like usual. It's not that he could run away. The chip they had implanted ensured that. But they still used the cage. When no one of his masters needed him at night he slept there and whenever they left the tower together he was also locked up. 

The sound of the elevator woke Clint up and he swallowed. He hoped that it was one of his masters, really. He had to pee and the goddamn prince's wand still closed his urethra. With a tiny sigh he lifted himself up into a kneeling position, his hands folded behind his back, his legs spread as far as possible. The reverse prince albert was locked with his navel piercing and ensured that all his other piercings showed to advantage. His owner loved the sight.

Quietly he waited till he heard the doors and then a silent footfall. But the man entering the living room wasn't one of his masters or his owner. The man shouldn't be here at all. He died nearly a year ago. Clint was shocked, stared at him and forgot his posture. He grabbed the bars and his lips quivered.

“Sir?” he whispered and now the man saw him. And he smiled.

Clint opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then he shook his head. Apparently they had messed him up pretty bad when he started to see dead people. 

“No, you can't be here.” 

“Tony told me that you are here,” Phil said and came over to his cage, hunkered down a little bit clumsily and touched Clint's hand, still clamped around the bars. 

“But I've seen you die,” Clint carefully touched Phil's hand touching his. “You've been dead.” 

“Close to. And I've been for a few seconds but they could resuscitate me.”

Clint looked up at the older man through the bars of his cage. Phil was alive. And Phil was here. Phil was his friend, the only one he still had. Phil was here to help him.

“Please, Phil. Can you help me? Can you let me go?” He asked quietly and touched his hand once more, carefully as if a sudden movement would let him disappear.

“I'm sorry, Clint. But I can't do that.” He still smiled and Clint blinked in disbelief. “Tony gave you to me. You're mine now.” 

What? No, he was sure he had misheard. Phil wasn't one of _them_. Phil wouldn't hurt him. Phil was his friend. Phil was...

“Phil?” Confusion clearly visible on his face now when Coulson leaned forward, reached through the bars and placed his hand behind Clint's head. He pulled him over and placed a kiss on his lips and Clint was stunned. Phil knew that he wasn't into guys. He knew it. Why would Phil do something like this to him? Why wasn't Phil helping him?

“You are so beautiful, Clint.” Coulson's hand traveled down Clint's exposed body, over the branding, over his pierced nipples, over the lock where his dick was connected to the navel piercing, over all the piercings down his cock and sac. 

“Phil, please...” Clint felt his hands on his scrotum, fondling with his balls and then he squeezed them and it hurt.

“Not Phil, it's master from now on.” 

_No! No, not Phil! He can't do that. He... he can't... he's the closest I ever had to a family. Why can he do that?_ Clint thought and he lowered his eyes obediently and he felt something shatter inside of him. 

“Of course we have to attach a new brand. My initials. What do you think?” Phil's voice was... strange. So different from the soft voice of the man who saved his life more than once. Now he sounded more like a predator, ready to take what he wants. 

“Phil, please...” Clint tried again and this time he felt the stinging pain from the chip in his back and with a scream he slumped down. 

“I... I'm sorry...” he stammered.

“I'm sorry, what?” Phil repeated and Clint swallowed hard. 

“I'm sorry, master.” 

“Who do you belong, Clint?” Phil started to caress his body once more and Clint let him. What else could he do?

“You, master.” 

“That's right. You're mine now. Mine to do with whatever I want. Do you understand that, Clint?”

“Yes, master.” He held his eyes on the floor the way Master Tony had ordered him to do but his lips trembled. _Phil was one of them. Phil betrayed him. Everyone betrayed him. Phil betrayed him._

Coulson opened the cage, stepped back and pointed at a spot a few inches in front of him. “Come out,” he ordered and Clint left his prison on his knees and presented himself to his new master, his hands clasped behind his back, his legs spread, his head bowed. The older man walked round him and when he saw the scars on his back from Director Fury's whipping he touched them.

“So beautiful. All the pain. I wish I'd been there for you then.” Coulson traced a few of the deeper scars and Clint shuddered. 

“Follow me,” he finally said and went back to the elevator. Clint looked at him questioningly for a second but when he only lifted his brow he crawled behind him to the cabin. When they arrived they could hear the elevator already in motion and Clint knelt back and waited for Master to give further instructions. Coulson placed his hand on his shoulder and Clint shuddered again. 

The cabin stopped on this floor and the door went open. Clint could hear a few people and he caught a glimpse through his lashes. Master Tony, Master Thor, two guards from the New York slave auction house and a tied prisoner between them. Clint saw, that the slave had only one arm, the other was a mechanical prosthesis. 

“Ah, Agent. So you found your present? Do you like it?”

“Yes, thank you, Tony,” Master smiled at Master Tony and placed his hand possessively on his shoulder. The tied man got dragged out of the cabin and Clint could hear the guards locking him into the cage.

“I have to remind you that the slave still needs training, Mr. Stark. Be careful, he's untamed.” One of the men said and Clint could hear Master Tony chuckle.

“That was the same with Clint and see how pliant he is now.” Master touched his shoulder and indicated for him to follow. He didn't catch the last of the conversation but apparently Master Tony had given him away and bought a new slave for the Avengers to break. 

“Shh... nothing to fear, Clint. I'll take good care of you.” 

“Thank you, Master.”


	10. Chapter 10

Pain, nothing but pain. His whole world was hot, red and searing pain right now. He screamed and tried to get rid of his restraints but they held him relentless in position. His back arched when the pain increased but he couldn't get away from the pain.

Master loved it when he screamed. He made him scream very often. Master loved it when he writhed on the bed and tried to get away. Master loved it. Master loved him. That's why Master punished him. 

“Such a good boy,” Master praised him. He loved it when Master praised him. He loved Master. 

Master moved his hand in his body and touched the spot that felt good. He groaned and then Master squeezed his balls again and he screamed again.

Master made his body clean, gave him an enema and he remembered the cramps, remembered the painful noises he made and Master had petted his head and told him what a good boy he was. When he cried Master had kissed his tears away.

“You're doing so good, pet. I'm so proud of you.” Master had kissed him and he loved it when Master kissed him. It felt so good and his dick always twitched in excitement. 

“You are mine, pet. Only mine.”

“Yes, Master,” he gasped when Master twisted his nipples and brushed the new scars on his chest. The scars where his Master had eternized his ownership, where he had destroyed the sign of his previous master. 

Master had led him to the bed, had tied his hands to the headboard and his knees to the sides. He was spread as wide as possible. Master had hooked his cock to his navel and teased the piercings on the underside and on his scrotum and perineum and he had moaned at the touch. Master loved it when he moaned. Master often made him moan. 

He relaxed when he had felt Master's finger at his entrance and waited for Master to use him. But Master only shoved something into him. It wasn't a plug. It was... burning... the skin was burning... and he was struggling. Master loved to see him struggle. It hurt, hurt, hurt! 

“You like that, pet?” Master asked.

“Yes, Master. I like it,” he wailed and writhed in pain. He pulled at his restraints, tried to get away but it was futile, the straps held him open and available for Master and the pain.

“Do you know what this is?” Master asked and stroked his cock. He felt the pleasure. He felt the pain.

“No, Master. I like it,” he threw his head back and felt tears on his face and Master kissed them away. He still stroked his cock and he liked it. 

“It's ginger. And I rubbed the juice of a Habanero on it.” Master kissed him, touched his tongue with his and petted his face. 

It hurt. It felt good. It hurt. He loved the pain. He loved the pleasure. He loved Master. 

Master removed the ginger but it still burned inside of him and he writhed when Master put his finger in his hole. Master added a second finger and then a third and it felt nice and it hurt and it burned and he loved the stretch and Master's hand on his dick. Master looked at him and smiled and he kissed him and added the fourth finger and he threw his head back. Master wasn't pleased and squeezed his balls instead. He stopped struggling and felt a tear on his face.

Master stroked his stomach and kissed him again. 

“Relax now, pet,” Master said and he obeyed despite the pain. He felt more tears on his face and Master kissed them away. Master loved him. Master folded his thumb and pushed his hand into his channel and he screamed. Master smiled at him.

“So good, pet. You're doing so good.” Master didn't stop when he started struggling again. It hurt, hurt, hurt. It was so dry. Master said he deserved the pain. He believed Master. Master knows what's right. Master loved him. He loved Master.

Master spread his hand and it hurt. He moved his hand in his body and touched the spot where it felt good. It hurt. It felt so good. His cock was so hard. The tears on his face were kissed away by Master. Master loved him.

Master squeezed his balls and he screamed. His whole world was pain now and he loved it because Master loved it. He loved Master. 

When he touched the spot inside him more and more he writhed on the bed and the pain was mixed with pleasure and the knowledge that Master loved him and that he pleased Master. Master let go of his balls and opened the cap on the prince's wand, started to stroke his cock again and he moved his hand in his body and he touched the spot and it burned and it felt so good and he came and came and came. He spurted his come on his chest and arched his back and Master kissed away the tears on his face.

Master removed his hand out of his body and then opened his pants. He took a seat beside his head and held his hard dick.

“Suck me, pet,” Master commanded and he obeyed immediately. He opened his mouth and swallowed Master's cock greedily. He sucked, swirled his tongue over Master's cock and deep throated him and when Master came he swallowed each drop of his precious cum. He wouldn't waste anything Master gave him. Master loved him. He loved Master.

When Master opened the cuffs that held him down on the bed and rose he sat up. 

“Come, pet,” Master said and he followed him on his knees. Everything hurt, his body hurt but Master would make the hurt go away. Master loved him. 

In the bathroom Master let water run into the bathtub and he knelt down beside Master and waited patiently. 

“You know what to do, pet.” He climbed into the tub and leaned back, placed his hands over his head and Master started to clean him. Master loved to clean him and he was always so gentle with him. He took the soft sponge and washed him. Master smiled and he smiled back at Master.

“You've been so good, pet. So, so good,” Master praised him and leaned down to kiss him.

“Thank you, Master,” he said and Master smiled.

“I love you, pet,” Master said and he smiled back at Master.

“I love you, Master.”


	11. Just a little announcement

So, I've been asked about Clint getting payback on his tormentors.  
If you are interested in revenge, move back to Chapter 8 and choose the Alternate Ending option in the chapter notes. ;) 

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)


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